My Chemical Romance
The Black Parade

My Chemical Romance may have begun its life as a goth-punk outfit that was
modeled after the Misfits, its home-state heroes, but on its latest endeavor The Black Parade, the band has become something far greater than anyone ever
imagined it could be. Youthful angst is, of course, nothing new, but in the 36
years since Alice Cooper’s heavy metal crunch of a horror show stampeded its way
up the charts with the triple punch of Love It to Death, Killer,
and School’s Out, the world has become a darker, scarier place in which
to live. The threat of nuclear attack from another nation has given way to
terrorists who, out of a loss of hope, senselessly fly airplanes into buildings
and want to detonate an atomic bomb within one of the west’s primary financial
hubs, simply to make a political point. The risk of cancer has grown from a fear
factor pawned by nighttime news programs into a grim reality of a polluted
planet; the scourge of drugs has escalated considerably as marijuana was
replaced by cocaine, then heroin, then crystal meth; and instead of aiming
hunting rifles and bb guns at bottles and cans in the woods, automatic weapons
are used to shoot down classmates and teachers. While death may be a natural end
to life, it now assumes with greater frequency an abnormal form.

These concepts have weighed heavily upon My Chemical Romance’s work since its
debut I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love. However, where
many up-and-coming bands have played the dangerous game of apathetically
shrugging death away while sinking into an assortment of self-destructive
behaviors, My Chemical Romance immerses itself within the darkness of the world
in the hope of comprehending mortality and learning how to survive. As its title
suggests, The Black Parade unfolds — at least lyrically — like a long,
slow march through a bleak and sunless nightmare; the underlying concept that
anchors the set revolves around the tale of a man who, dying from cancer, comes
to realize that he has wasted his life. It isn’t until the final track that a
little of the light from above begins to seep into the story’s consciousness. "I
am not afraid to keep on living/I am not afraid to walk this world alone," front
man Gerard Way sings with defiance on Famous Last Words, breaking the
miserable reflection that had filled the first 45 minutes of the endeavor.

Considering its subject matter as well as the grandiose theatrics employed by
My Chemical Romance, The Black Parade easily could have been ruined by an
air of overwrought pretentiousness, but the band maneuvers so deftly through its
material that it succeeds in sidestepping the pitfalls that have sunk many
like-minded outfits. With the help of co-producer Rob Cavallo — who recently
played a key role in sculpting Green Day’sAmerican Idiot — the ensemble
begins The End, the opening cut on the effort, by invoking Bob Ezrin’s
classic work with Pink Floyd and Alice Cooper. Yet, it also hints at the breadth
of its ambitions by lacing the song with touches of Beatle-esque psychedelia and
Bowie-bred glam. The rest of The Black Parade finds My Chemical Romance
making good on its initial promises as it dynamically swerves through a mishmash
of styles: Cancer is dressed in the textures of ELO’s pop-driven
prog-rock. The taut, thunderous, heavy metal roar of This Is How I Disappear
recalls, at times, Iron Maiden in all of its ominously powerful glory. Enough
nods to Queen’s flamboyant majesty are tucked into every nook and cranny to
resurrect Freddie Mercury, and strange as it may seem, Liza Minnelli makes a
guest appearance on the Bertolt Brecht/Kurt Weill-swiping, opera piece Mama.

Through it all, My Chemical Romance manages to escape from simply fawning
over rock ’n‘ roll’s past. Rising above its obvious influences, the band gives
its music precisely the dramatic tension and urgency that it needs, while
simultaneously striking a perfect balance between the seriousness of its
pursuits and the giddy delirium that comes with knowing that it has crafted a
song cycle that is as over the top as it is impressive. The only misstep made by
the ensemble — and it’s hardly major — is that the underlying narrative begs to
be tightened slightly. Nevertheless, My Black Parade is a wholly
compelling endeavor; for a death-stalked album, it also is a helluva lot of fun.